


last line of defense

by ralf



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sappy Ending, Trust, how do i tag this without giving too much away lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ralf/pseuds/ralf
Summary: With a soft hum Magnus raises his hand and snaps, but instead of a martini appearing between his fingers the drink cabinet rattles, a glass toppling down and hitting the carpet with a thump. Magnus blinks and craddles his wrist carefully, frowning.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 20
Kudos: 312





	last line of defense

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bohemian (Linguam)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguam/gifts).



> for bohemian because there seems to be some kind of anniversary coming up. or did it happen already? who knows. anyway! this fic got away from me, and then it got away from me some more, so it's pretty far from what we were originally talking about... but i hope you still like it <3<3<3

It starts right after dinner.

They've settled on the couch and Alec can almost hear Magnus's internal debate whether he should untangle himself from Alec to fix himself a martini or just summon it. In a sly attempt at manipulation Alec tightens his arm around Magnus's shoulders and pulls him closer into his side. Magnus melts against him immediately and Alec feels the scales tipping in his favor.

With a soft hum Magnus raises his hand and snaps, but instead of a martini appearing between his fingers the drink cabinet rattles, a glass toppling down and hitting the carpet with a thump. Magnus blinks and craddles his wrist carefully, frowning.

Alec tenses. “Magnus?”

Magnus doesn't answer. He opens and closes his fist, a surge of blue sparks flickering on his skin before they splutter and die, leaving faint marks in their wake. Magnus curses, rubbing at the spots.

The sight makes Alec's heart leap into his throat. He's never seen Magnus unable to control his magic. Even at his angriest, when it flares red and sears hot Magnus is entirely in command. “Magnus, what is it?”

“I'm fine,” Magnus responds but the way he's still clutching his wrist belies him. He lets out a deliberate breath before meeting Alec's eyes. “You didn't happen to put sage in the stew, did you?”

“I...” The question is so unexpected that Alec falters for a moment. “Yes?” he answers and it feels like admitting a grave mistake. “Magnus, what's going on?”

Magnus's gaze slips back down to his hands and he fiddles with his rings. “I'm allergic to sage.”

The statement drops like lead into Alec's stomach. His breath catches. Whatever is happening to Magnus is _his_ fault.

“I'm sorry,” he says helplessly. “Is there anything I can do?”

Magnus leans back into the couch. “Well for starters that martini would be nice,” he quips nonchalantly but the humor doesn't reach his eyes, his hands still coiled tightly together. By now Alec recognizes his deflections when he sees them, but he gets up to prepare the drink nonetheless. He doesn't want to leave Magnus's side for even a second but Magnus deserves a moment to collect himself if he wants it. It's the least Alec owes him after creating this mess in the first place.

He goes through the motions in record time and when he returns Magnus seems more put together than a minute ago. He accepts the drink with a steady hand, the smile he sends Alec small but genuine. It soothes the frayed edges of Alec's nerves.

Magnus takes a long sip and licks his lips. “You're getting really good at this.”

Alec barely registers the compliment, no doubt designed to divert his attention. He can't, not when he can still see the little pink dots covering Magnus's hand where his magic bit into his skin. “Is there anything else you need? Anything I can do?”

“Not really.” Magnus settles the glass on his knee, twirling the stem languidly. “As soon as it's worked its way through my system I'll be back to normal.”

He turns he glass slowly, around and around and around. Alec watches the rippling surface of the clear liquid, not a single drop spilt. He still doesn't understand. “I didn't know warlocks could have allergies,” he ventures carefully.

Magnus takes another slow sip. “Our magic makes us immune to mundane allergies.” He shrugs. “But it also opens the door to magical allergies. Sage has magical properties that don't mesh well with my magic. It causes.. interferences.”

“I'm sorry,” Alec mumbles again, fingernails digging into his palm.

Magnus shakes his head. “You didn't know.” His free hand finds Alec's, uncurling his fingers and threading them with his own.

“Yeah,” Alec concedes, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Because I never asked. I should have.”

Magnus squeezes his fingers in a way Alec is intimately familiar with. He always does it when he thinks Alec is beating himself up over something that's not his fault. “You didn't even know magical allergies were a thing,” he contends. “And I never mentioned it either.”

He rests his head against Alec's shoulder, a comfortable reassurance. “You were doing something nice and I appreciate it after the week we've had. And for what it's worth,” he grinds his chin against Alec's collarbone teasingly, “I _loved_ the stew.”

Alec huffs, a fraction amused despite himself. “Was it really worth _this_ though?” he asks, swiping his fingertips over the marks still lingering on the back of Magnus's hand. He wishes he could erase them somehow but he has nothing to tend to them except his own careful touch. Hopefully it's enough to ease at least some of Magnus's discomfort.

“Sometimes our best intentions backfire on us,” Magnus ruminates, sidestepping Alec's question. He nudges Alec again. “Like when I tried to spell your stele and destroyed it in the process.”

Part of Alec wants to press the point but he knows how insistent Magnus can be once he's decided that Alec isn't to blame for something, so he relents. “You know, Jace still doesn't believe me. He's convinced I made that up so I wouldn't have to admit I broke it myself.”

Magnus chuckles, his breath ghosting over Alec's skin. “I'm sure he'd feel better if he could share the infamy with his parabatai.”

“Probably. But I won't put myself in the line of Izzy's wrath if I can help it. She enjoys chewing us out way too much.”

“Maybe that's the real reason she became weapon's master,” Magnus muses.

Alec snorts. “I wouldn't even be surprised.” Izzy really does have a penchant for pestering him, but mostly her lectures are about how he should cut back on his working hours and take better care of himself.

Instinctively his eyes wander back to Magnus's hands. Magnus has relaxed considerably since the moment his magic first acted up but Alec still senses an undercurrent of tension in him. He traces his fingers over the edge of Magnus's wrist slowly. He hesitates, but in the end he needs to know. “Does it hurt?”

Magnus's gaze snaps to him. “No,” he assures firmly. He watches Alec for a long moment as if to make sure he believes him and whatever he sees in Alec's expression makes him sigh. “It's not _painful_ ,” he backtracks. “It's more of a constant prickle. A nuisance, sure, but it can be ignored.” His lips tug down at the corners and Alec's heart squeezes.

“There's more, isn't it?”

“It's...” Magnus trails off, a complex emotion washing over his face before he finally yields. “My magic. It.. feels different. Estranged.” He huffs, staring at his hands. “I can call it but I know it won't respond the way I want it to.” He flexes his fingers. “I know I should just leave it be but I can't.”

The words settle sharply in Alec's chest. “I'm sorry,” he whispers again.

Magnus shifts, leaning heavier against him. “It'll pass. I can handle a few hours of magiclessness.” He drains the rest of his martini and sets the glass down on the couch next to them, apparently unwilling to reach for the table and break contact with Alec. Alec holds him closer, contenting himself with the fact that he seems to bring Magnus some solace, at least. He can't imagine how hard it must be for Magnus to be cut off from such a vital part of himself, to have it so close and yet out of reach. It seems unthinkable that someone as powerful as Magnus can be brought to his knees by three measly leaves from a plain herb.

“I can't believe there's no potion or spell against this,” he mutters more to himself, but pauses when he feels Magnus's hand twitch almost imperceptively in his. “Wait. Magnus, is there a remedy?”

Magnus turns guileless eyes on him that don't fool Alec for a second. “Magnus!”

Magnus hums and starts playing with the lapels of Alec's shirt as if that might distract him. He captures Magnus's hand and squeezes. “Please, Magnus. Let me make this right again. I'll call Catarina, okay?”

Giving up his clueless facade Magnus slumps against him, heaving a heavy sigh. “I'd rather you wouldn't.”

“Why?” He curls his arm around Magnus's shoulders, trying to understand. “Let me help you.”

“You are helping me,” Magnus protests. “Drinking the potion to expel the allergen is unpleasant, to say the least. I would take it if I was vulnerable or dependent on my magic. But I'm safe in my home and... you're here.” He tucks his head under Alec's chin, the gesture simple and yet heart-stoppingly trustful. “I'd rather sit it out with you.”

Alec is struck speechless by the confession. He cradles Magnus closer and vows not to let anything happen to him, not now and not ever.


End file.
